And played familiar with his hoary locks;
Stood on the Alps, stood on the Apennines,
And with the thunder talked, as friend to friend,
And wove his garland of the light'ning's wing,
In sportive twist;—the light'ning's fiery wing,
Which, as the footsteps of the dreadful God,
Marching up the storm in vengeance, seemed
Then turned: and with the grasshopper, who song
His evening song beneath his feet, conversed,
Suns, moons, and stars, and clouds, his sisters were,